


Empress Knows Best

by PhelfromGrace



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bizarrely Soft Gingerrose, Canon Relationships: implied reylo and past unrequited finnrose, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, Dark Rey (Star Wars), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Use, Empress Rey, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, GingerRose Kink Weeks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sexual Content, Submissive Armitage Hux, bareback, exhibitionism/voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26147206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhelfromGrace/pseuds/PhelfromGrace
Summary: Empress Rey only wishes for her friend Rose to let go of fear, to put herself before others, to own up to her deepest desires and pressing needs.Rose desperately needs to escape the clutches of this tyrant.General Hux will do anything to survive.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 43
Kudos: 72
Collections: GingerRose Kink Weeks





	1. I.

  


  


The bolt of lightning that shoots from crooked fingers and twisted yellow eyes explodes into her body like a drum of unrefined coaxium reaching its flashpoint with more than enough fuel to power a Destroyer’s flight across the stars and back, tenfold. Or at least, that’s how it feels.

Rose gasps for air as she tries to right her stance, nose scrunching at the smell of burnt flesh and sizzled hair. Her knees buckle and she crumbles to the ground, polished and dark, wishing that it could just swallow her up like the black hole that it resembles. Through the slits of her puffy eyelids, she looks up to the throne where her once-friend sits.

_“Rose.”_

She senses her approach, hears quick footsteps clacking against obsidian tiles, but Rose can barely move a muscle or keep her thoughts in a coherent line. She has been electrocuted before from accidental short-circuited starship engines, and unfortunate torture, so much torture from probes strapped onto First Order interrogation chairs that she escaped time and time again. This time was different. The sheer strength of the Force was on an entirely different level, like being crushed by a so-called deity she never believed in until now. 

“Rose. If only you listened to me, I wouldn’t have lost my patience.” 

A hand clasps onto her shoulder, thin wiry fingers branching off a slender arm from a slim figure dressed in fine black robes that fan to the floor like an elegant evening gown—this Rey looks like an Empress. The Rey she knew would never wear such garments, never cared about vanity, of glory. The cold hand massages her in a sorry excuse for comfort; it digs roughly into her flesh but she hardly winces. It hurts too much everywhere else. 

“So fragile. I must remind myself to be mindful of your weakness. We cannot all wield the power of the Dark…well, there are other ways to achieve power, greatness, without the Force. If only you would allow—”

“I told you already, Rey. I am _never_ joining you.”

“I never asked that of you. I only told you to let yourself _free.”_

“Sure, couldn’t agree more. How about you let me go? Then I’ll be free.”

The hand clenches, fingernails piercing through already blood-stained cloth and skin. “That is _not_ what I meant about freedom,” Rey growls, baring grotesquely sharp teeth. “This is the problem with you unenlightened Resistance lot, bound by your ideals and that misplaced sense of justice. You do not know what it means to be truly free. To admit and pursue those desires buried so deep.”

“I only have one desire. Let me go.”

“NO!” 

The jolt of the Force rips through Rose’s body once more, firing off every nerve ending with a single signal: pain. It’s short and over within a split of a second, but her battered limbs can’t take it anymore. She collapses, paralyzed from the neck down, managing to hang on to her consciousness out of the sheer fear of never waking up.

“Rose, you keep on making me do it. If only you’d just _listen._ You cannot leave because you don’t want to leave. You _want_ to be here, with your friends—with me, Rey, your friend. I’m here for you. I won’t let you leave until you understand this. Once I find the others, Finn and Poe, we can be a family again. Before that time comes, you must learn to let go of everything that holds you back. Fulfill your _true_ desires.”

Her true desires? Rose only has one desire, and despite the intense pain, she summons every ounce of strength to move her jaw one last time. It comes out as a barely audible rasp.

“What?” Rey whispers back.

“Let…go. Let me go.”

Rose braces herself for the third strike of Force lightning, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Rey’s crazed voice lashes out. “I want my friend back," she whines into the void. "I want my friend to _listen._ She’s not listening. _Why_ isn’t she listening?! _Make her listen._ HUX!”

A second set of footsteps, measured and familiar, echoes into the vast hall. It’s a rhythm that she could never forget—how many times had she listened to those steps while crammed in a ventilation shaft or eavesdropping through a sliced comm? She’s not surprised that he survived, that he’s surviving the reign of his new tyrant master. He always struck her as the type who would survive anything, even a blast point-blank to the chest or the explosion of his flagship.

“My Empress, your command?”

That voice is unmistakable. Haughty and slimy, all tall nose and slicked-back hair. She can’t see him, her eyes are too droopy and bruised, but she’s fairly certain that his back is impossibly straight under that crisply ironed uniform, and his boots are as polished as a shiny service droid from Canto Bight’s finest. 

“Do something about her. Make her listen!”

“Yes, my Empress.”

Too limp to fight, she is scooped up into bony arms and whisked off the cold floor. His only redeeming quality is the freshly laundered gaberwool, a clean scent that reminds her of Takodana’s open air. His body heat wasn’t half bad either. He carries her somewhere, far away from the throne, some place where the ceiling isn’t as high, judging by the sound of his footsteps that resound less. Her ass meets a cushioned surface, soft in comparison to obsidian, but by no means comfortable under any other circumstance. It feels utilitarian and it has a backrest. It’s a sofa. She’s in his private quarters. 

“Bow before the Empress. Entertain her, do as you are told. That is the only way to survive.”

“I refuse.”

“You will bow before her. She has commanded me to train you. I will not fail.”

“Yeah? How’re you gonna achieve that?”

“Through technology.”

The struggle is pathetic and Rose swears that if she hadn’t been electrocuted twice prior, she could easily overtake him, bite his pasty little ear off and gouge out his eyes with her stumpy technician thumbs. He subdues her with the full weight of his lanky body, those damn long fingers cuffing both her wrists in one grip. The other hand holds a collar, sleek in design, probably some new prototype the Order had managed to keep secret from her sophisticated slicing. It clips around her neck and instantly, her already tired eyes completely glaze over. 

The world becomes dull feeling and no thought. She obeys.

  


**

“This won’t do. This isn’t my friend. She’s like a droid! _Hux,_ if I wanted a droid, I would have demanded one, or controlled her myself with a mind trick. Take that ridiculous thing off her!”

Rose vaguely registers the leather-clad fingers touching her neck, fiddling with the collar. It feels distant, like gazing into the big black abyss of space through a foggy starship viewport. It’s not a bad place to be. It’s quiet. Safe. She can sleep here in peace.

With a click of a release, the metallic restraint breaks into two halves that fall and land in a resonant clang. A rush of sensations pours into her. The once safe feeling instantly vanishes, as if someone just opened the cargo hatch of her starship and threw her into the dangerous vacuum of the great beyond. Her world widens. Colour returns. Her hair bristles at the dank cold. Nostrils flare at the acidity in the air. Her muscles give out, but Hux catches her before she joins the discarded collar on the floor. Held upright, she is forced to face the slab throne and the intimidating figure seated upon it. 

“Rose, my _dear_ Rose. I am not one to beg for anything, even in my past on Jakku, I never stooped to that level. But today, I will make an exception.” Those regal eyes seem to soften, although the golden hue looks no less intense and menacing. “ _Please._ I want you to be happy, to give you what you want.”

“Rey, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not what I want.”

“I can _feel_ it. You have desires that you are too afraid of admitting. You lock yourself behind that cage of self-righteousness, always in service of others. I was once the same, too afraid, so afraid… I should have taken his hand and then we would, _he_ would still— never mind, I am free now. I freed myself. I want _you_ to be free too.”

She rises from her throne and in a blink, Rose becomes paralyzed by the suffocating quality of her aura closing in. That darkness. Like the vacuum of space.

“I _see_ it. Kissing Finn that time long ago on Crait, that wasn’t a meaningless impulse. You _wanted_ him. But you let him go, you brushed it off as if it meant nothing to you. Yes, I _feel_ it. In your heart, you still want him.”

“I don’t!” Rose cries. “Not in that way.” 

“Liar! You are _lying_ to yourself! You crave the touch of a man, the desire is so strong that I can sense it without the Force. The scent is practically dripping from your—”

“Shut up! You wouldn’t understand how lonely it’s been, hiding from your Sith goons, living underground to evade capture. You forced us all apart to survive… it was safer that way, for the greater good…” 

A sob escapes her throat, and then the tears. They flow down her cheeks like rivulets of blood from a fresh wound. She’d much rather receive ten consecutive shots of Force lightning than relive the pain of losing those so dear to her heart. Of being apart from the connections she had built since losing Paige.

“I can’t give you Finn,” Rey says, so tenderly that it almost sounds like her empathetic past self. _“Yet._ I can’t give you Finn _yet._ That elusive scoundrel cut himself off from the Force and the fleet has yet to trace his whereabouts. We will track him down in due time. But to satisfy your present need, there is a man here… Yes, I know, a subpar specimen compared to Finn, but a man nonetheless.” Her voice hardens as she turns to Hux. “General. Pleasure her.”

“Empress, with all due respect, Tico will surely not appreciate—”

 _“Now,_ Hux.” She extends her arm like a puppeteer dangling the strings, digits away from a vicious zap or choke. Her eyes flash with burning menace. _“Do it.”_

  


  


  


  



	2. II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dead dove reminder! Please check out the updated tags. This fic isn’t kind to any of the characters.

  


  


Rose has never seen Hux so meek, never would have thought it possible for that tenacious posture to bend or for those steely green eyes to dart their laser focus to the floor. The change in his demeanor is as unsettling as his ankles that quiver; she can’t quite believe that this is the same man who hadn’t flinched at the planet-shattering rumble of his superweapon tearing Ilum’s core and rippling through hyperspace—she saw the holos— he didn’t even blink while roaring the command that murdered billions. 

He’s silent now. No longer a rabid nexu, snarling and baring its fangs, he has become a skittish tooka, with lips pressed in a firm line. Seeing him like this, twitching in time with Rey’s increasing agitation, the seconds feel like hours and Rose can’t stand the tension. 

“I don’t want this,” she says to the terrifying Sith Empress. “I’m not programmed to, umm, _get off_ with a simple touch by a stranger, it just doesn’t work that way, okay? I need to build rapport with my partner, at least know their favourite dejarik piece to play or what they eat in the morning or whether they find the deep blue of hyperspace relaxing or if they agree that roasting Kowakian monkey-lizards is wrong no matter how much of a pest they are to the galaxy— the little things, I need to know the little things, don’t you agree?” She’s met with blank stares. They have no idea what the kriff she was rambling about, and honestly, neither does Rose. “Look, I’m not simple like OC-JK14, if we’re talking astromechs, I’m more like a C1-series pumped up with turbo AD-6 rear-socket batteries coupled with a GX-2ii plasma radium conductor, that always gives ‘em extra kick, not to mention a wicked attitude—”

The collar by her feet explodes into a cloud of fine dust like Hosnian Prime’s fate. Rose jumps back and stumbles, but Hux is there to steady her by the shoulders. It all happened so fast, of course it did, it was lightning. 

“You are _no_ droid,” Rey bellows, deep timbre thundering up tall walls and boundless ceiling. “If he treats you otherwise, I will ensure that he is punished with the cruelest stroke.” She turns to Hux. “You hear me? Treat her well. Build that rapport and satisfy her every need. Don’t look at me like that— yes, I am aware of your penchant for the same sex, but I’ve seen your thoughts, your _desires._ You desire women just the same, lust after their curves, their gentle touch. But you are afraid. Afraid that they will abandon you like your mother. Afraid of becoming a lecherous addict like your father. Afraid of losing control. And pregnancy. So afraid of siring a child and passing on a line. Yes, I’ve seen your mind. I know _everything.”_

With a force push, the pair is flung across the hall, skidding over smooth black tiles until their backs thud against hard durasteel. 

“Go! Work on your intimacy! Rose, if I scent that longing for a man’s touch again, I will know that you did not work hard enough, and you will _both_ suffer the consequences.”

The pneumatic door hisses open like the mouth of a serpent. With another invisible burst of the Force, they are shoved outside, expelled from the beast’s belly and granted one more chance to live. 

*

“Are we seriously going to work on our intimacy? She’s insane! Absolute mynock-shit crazy! What is she thinking?!”

Rose doesn’t expect a meaningful response from Hux, but she is a little surprised that he refrains from throwing a snide remark. He heads straight for the refresher while she collapses onto the sofa and continues her tirade to an audience of utilitarian furniture. By the time she has exhausted her repertoire of unsavory oaths, he returns to the lounge looking considerably better in a black pleated robe slightly loose at the collar. The purplish dark circles are still present under pale green eyes, but his skin is flush with a warm hue that matches his hair, fluffy and bright. His demeanor however remains drab, and his gait less than perfect as he shuffles towards the courier droid that just entered the space. 

It beeps and flashes, then its front latch disengages. A metallic appendage springs out, holding a vial and dispenser that Hux handles with disturbing ease. Clearly, this isn’t his first time. He folds back a sleeve, exposing a thin wrist with skin so pale and veins so blue that she pictures hyperspace, a network of blue hyperlanes connecting to the heart of the galaxy...

He takes a shot. 

“ _Please_ tell me that’s stim.”

Stroking bare long fingers through flaming hair, he stretches his neck and lets out a deep sigh. “Care for a shot?” he asks, his boyish tone now sounding deeper, richer. Stim wouldn’t have made the corners of his tight lips curve into a smirk. It wouldn’t have relaxed the persistent knot between his brows. Only spice had that power.

He saunters over and sinks into the seat next to her, draping his arm over the backrest like a blanket enveloping her personal space. _“Rose,"—_ a hand lands on her thigh and he pins her down with an earnest look—"if the Empress senses your so-called frustrations, she will not hesitate. She _will_ strike the fatal blow. I have witnessed her tyranny, a wrath far greater than Supreme Leader Snoke and Ren combined. The entire First Order, my lieutenants and fellow generals, the _cadets,_ they all—”

The words die on his tongue. It’s probably what happened to the First Order, to all those kid soldiers. _Death._

She can’t find it in her heart to push him away, not when he looks so vulnerable, pained, and human. His thumb starts idly rubbing circles, a hotspot that prickles her skin despite the barrier of thick sackcloth fatigues. From his limp hair down to the jutting collarbone, he’s nothing like the perfect First Order machine from the past. He’s just a man, desperate and fallible, searching for a way out of this mess. 

“Never mind,” he says. “Shall we begin?”

He leans in closer, and the tip of his tall nose brushes past the choppy strands of hair by her temple. Full lips hover over her ear.

“Only a barbaric plebian would consider those disease-infested Kowakian monkey-lizards a viable source of sustenance. I would rather starve than bite into such putrid flesh.”

She sucks in a shallow breath, trying to keep her movements to a bare minimum. One small nudge to the left and those lips will brush against her skin.

“A hot cup of Tarine satiates my appetite in the morning— best sipped in the company of blue hyperspace, from the bridge’s viewport on a Resurgent-class battlecruiser. If I still commanded one, I would have taken you onboard.”

Her breathing speeds up, probably to compensate for the shorter intakes of air. Her heart races too. Hard thumps that clamp up her throat.

“The K'lor'slug is my dejarik piece of choice. Its high range encourages a plethora of defensive tactics while allowing one to attack from a safe distance.”

She’s very much aware of the very _unsafe_ distance between their bodies. The way his whole palm now rests dangerously higher. And his scent. Clean, like fresh air on rolling fields where she’d love to bask all day under the bright orange sun. If she lets herself go, she could touch the sun’s rays, those strands of ginger, and rid herself of the disgusting garb that itches her skin— the sackcloth trousers and nylar shirt, dirty as the Coruscanti underground or the toxic fumes of Anoat or the burning trash on Lotho Minor. She has seen the galaxy, the good and the bad. She turns her head to stare into his seafoam green irises, little verdant planets muted by a perpetual fog from stormy shores. Turbulent, like a tempest on Arkanis.

“Anything else you would like to know?”

“The Kintan Strider!” she blurts out. 

“The Kintan Strider? It is a terrifying beast with regenerative—"

“I mean, in dejarik, it’s my piece of choice. I have some pretty creative uses for it, umm, h-how about I show you? On the dejarik board, if you have one?”

He averts his gaze and frowns. “I… do not. The Empress has not provided any means of divertissement, however small.”

The frown dips lower and she realizes: this uptight countenance that he habitually wears, it distorts his pretty features and has led her to believe that his appearance was as nasty as his crimes. It’s not. Objectively, he has the face of a holodrama actor— chiseled, symmetrical, carved from pure alabaster, and capable of infinite expression. She wonders what he’d look like if the lines between his brows were instead at the corner of his eyes, crinkling, paired with lips upturned in a smile or jerked back in a howl of laughter.

Her hand moves before she can stop herself. 

She presses away the wrinkle, then traces down sharp cheekbones and jawline. She cups his cheek, not cold and smooth like stone, but alive and a little gritty where his faint stubble, his 1700-shadow, has sprouted. He relaxes under her touch, droops his eyelids tipped with long lashes, paler than his bright hair and just as fine. He leans further into her palm, nearly purrs like a tamed tooka. She can’t lie to herself, she likes it. He feels nice and smells so clean, looks so pretty, and it’s been so lonely.

Rose has seen the galaxy, the good and the bad. She knows right from wrong, but it doesn’t stop her from recklessly flying straight into bad territory, at full speed towards the blazing sun. 

Their lips collide. She succumbs to his heat. 

And her frigidity, harsh like the ice on Hays Minor, melts into a gushing stream.

  


**

“Why aren’t you smiling? I _said,_ I have a gift for you. You should be ecstatic.” 

Rose hates lying. She refuses to feign happiness on cue like some fake laugh track in a holocomedy, but when she senses Hux’s sudden discomfort, a subtle creak of leather from a clenching fist, she forces her cheeks to lift for his sake. It’s more of a grimace rather than a smile, but the effect seems to satisfy the Empress who curtly nods in approval. With a flick of a finger, the rear door swishes open, revealing two masked guards in long red robes and—

“Finn!”

She runs with arms wide open towards her beloved friend who doesn’t mirror the gesture, in fact, he doesn’t react to her presence at all. 

She can’t care less. She’s too overwhelmed by emotion and relief to dwell on silly things like unrequited love. Only when her arms wrap around his broad shoulders does she realize the reason why he isn’t hugging her in return: binders, probably to suppress the Force, hold both his wrists together behind his back. He reeks of sulfur, likely from the burnt keratin of his hair that has been zapped more than she can imagine. He remains quiet, and she assumes that his jaw is locked like hers had once been. It hurts to see him like this. She also remembers the pain. It hurts.

“A touching reunion,” Rey says, her serrated teeth stretching from ear to ear. “I can feel it, _yes,_ the excitement in your heart! Go on. Feel more. Take more. Pleasure yourself _more.”_

Rose reflexively drops the hug and takes two steps back. She doesn’t like where this is going….

“He is highly disobedient hence the binders. I will need to control his mind— yes, I understand that this action is _not_ ideal for Finn, and yes, I want _all_ my friends to be happy, but just this once. I will make the exception for you, Rose, because you deserve the indulgence after everything that you’ve been through. Don’t hold back. Take what you deserve. I will help.”

Finn’s big brown eyes glisten from unshed tears and reflect her exact sentiment. Horror. She can’t do that to her friend, not like this, never like this. Even if his heart wasn’t devoted to another, it would be wrong on so many levels. 

“I sense conflict. I won’t venture into your mind. But I sense… doubt.”

“I…” Rose takes a deep breath and one last look at her pitiful friend, at his battered body hanging by barely a thread of consciousness. Anything more will break him beyond repair, she’s sure of it. She redirects her gaze to the eye of the Arkanian storm, a calm that she is about to destroy. “Armitage,” she says with all the confidence that she can muster, steeling both voice and heart. “I love you.” 

Rey bristles and snarls, “How _dare_ you lie—"

There’s no time to hesitate. Rose’s short legs sprint and propel her small body onto Hux’s tall frame, hooking hands at the back of his neck to pull her face upwards and connect with his lips. She kisses him with desperation, clawing for survival, grabbing fistfuls of prim hair and hanging on tightly in case he was going to shove her off and expose her lie. He’s under no obligation to keep up this ruse—he did his job, he satisfied her supposed early desires— so when his hand meets the small of her back to bring her closer to his chest, she gasps into his mouth and he takes the invitation further, slipping in his tongue and moving with a precision befit of an expert tactician. He slows down the pace, reassures her that he won’t drop her. 

His soft lips seem to whisper. _We are in this together._

Her grip in his pomade-laden hair slackens as he cradles her plump bottom and holds her up with ease. They haven’t kissed in this position before; she never thought it possible with their incongruous heights and his slender arms that only seemed good at waving commands. Then again, there’s plenty that she doesn’t know about him and his body. It’s only been a week and he was on spice every time. She didn’t think his sober lips would feel this way, that it’d taste even more delicious when he orders her mouth around to his liking. She didn’t think she’d ever want to follow his lead.

That straining uniform collar is such a nuisance, stupidly seamless with no easy openings, much like his General persona. She can’t wait to rip it off. Eager to feel his neck, to graze over swathes of freckles and leave little bite marks on pasty skin, she wants— 

“ _…no…_ ” a voice croaks. Finn’s voice. It reels her back, and she pulls away from the warmth on her tongue.

Hux’s face comes into full view—flush, hair awry, brows relaxed. It’s familiar, boyish and cute, and it twists her insides in ways that she’d rather not admit. Her eyes motion to let her down. He complies.

“Why are you stopping?” Rey demands. “Does it not feel exhilarating? Your energy, a deep well of pure emotion, it’s _beautiful._ Do you not want more, Rose?” She rises from her throne and steps down, long black robes trailing like a shadow. “Go on, take more. What are you waiting for? Unless, Hux… does not desire you?”

“No Empress,” he interjects, jaw taut yet resolute. “I love her.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He scoops her petite body up into a bridal carry and marches to the throne. Rose is still processing the four-letter L-word when her shirt rips open and the cold Exogol air hits her skin. He tears off her brassiere, then pulls trousers and underwear down to her feet. Naked and shocked, she stands before an audience of two masked guards, an unhinged Sith Empress, a friend with fried neurons, and Armitage Hux, on his knees. 

She stumbles into the throne, ass landing on more cold that chills her to the bone. From her dangling feet, he slips off boots and the garments bunched around her ankles. He spreads her pliant legs apart, smooth leather palming her inner thighs as his nose begins to dive in like a hound sniffing for its prey, for that tasty little treat. He lands at the apex of her opening where the thick folds, like the generous rind of a fruit, are ready for him to peel apart and devour the flesh beneath. He exhales, hot breath making her shiver, and inhales her scent. 

Hux eats her out so thoroughly that her vision goes black. 

She claws into his scalp, tugs at the roots and uses ginger strands as reins, not that he needed any guidance, he knows exactly what he’s doing. She moans to the moon, although, there is no moon on this barren planet; there is nothing at all except a flat tongue lapping at her clit and pushing her to the edge of ecstasy.

She peeks through heavy eyelids and sees two yellow flares. Rey’s eyes. They watch her with a hunger reminiscent of tales from Jakku. Dangerously starved. Predatory. Coveting the tender raw meat splayed on the Sith throne.

Rose’s orgasm peaks and she shuts off the outside world, replaces the image of aggressive yellow with bright sunshine, an orange sun on a verdant planet. Arkanis without the rain. Armitage without baggage. 

The rush slows to a halt and she glances down at her partner. He’s a slobbering mess, panting against her thighs, completely undone.

It’s over. He has done well—

“More,” the Empress commands. “ _Hux,_ give her more!”

Rose opens her mouth to protest, but she’s instantly silenced by very wet lips that sweep away both words and thoughts. He kisses her relentlessly, stalks every movement until she has nowhere to turn and must face him head-on. She can’t hide. She’s so open and pliable down there, anything could slide in, even a flaccid cock since there’s no way Hux could get it up the natural way without spice. He’s not attracted to her and he doesn’t love her and he never finished all week because of those two facts, among many others. The man has baggage. No matter how good he was at acting, there are some things a person can’t fake…

Or maybe, he really _is_ a machine. Capable of turning on with a switch of a button.

No, he’s _definitely_ one. A modified droid with those turbo AD-6 rear-socket batteries coupled with a GX-2ii plasma radium conductor, inputted on maximum drive, packed with extra coolant to mitigate overheating and untimely shutdown. She lists all the technical possibilities to distract herself from the massive erection he somehow managed to summon, the slit on its head already dripping with fat pearls of precum. 

It’s baffling. When did he… How can he… _Why_ is he… She searches his face for an answer, and quickly understands. He’s hungry. Predatory. Possessive and insatiable. Just like his master. 

His hard cock slots between the folds of her entrance, the ooze of his premature seed mixing with the wet traces of her previous orgasm. It’s so wrong that he fits so well, that he’s so tall and she’s so short, but he locks in snug and perfect like one of those tight gloves he wears, the ones he tossed aside to instead handle her with warm bare palms. He caresses her sides as he slowly slides in and out. It has just the right amount of friction to spark her arousal, to keep the flame alive without burning her to the ground.

He picks up speed and her surroundings start to spin. But all she sees is him, her anchor, at the centre of this maelstrom. Disheveled, desperate Armitage, doing everything and anything to survive. She prefers this, concentrating on his pretty pale lashes and the prominent curve of his bow-shaped upper lip; the rumble of his grunts, and the swollen cock wedged inside of her, so deep like an extension of her spine. It all helps to block out Finn’s cries and Rey’s pleasured cackles. And Paige’s judgement from the Stars above.

Her second orgasm hits with a vigorous clench. Hux yelps. He’s not far behind and he pushes into her with one decisive stroke angled towards the tiny gate to her womb. He erupts, spilling hot semen so far inside that she wonders if he wants a baby. Even after he pulls out, she still feels him inside of her. 

Three slow claps beat into her eardrums. She whips around to the source of the noise. 

It’s Rey, giving them a round of applause while Finn’s head hangs so low that Rose can’t read his expression. Celebration and dejection. Winners and losers. Between Hux and herself, she’s not sure where they stand or lie. She’s too exhausted.

“You see, Rose? When you give in, when you let go of fear, the galaxy expands!”

She has seen enough of the galaxy for one day. She doesn’t need it to get any bigger.

“Now that your base desires are met, we can work on those delusions of grandeur. With my power, we will make _all_ your wishes a reality. They will be delusions no more! I cannot wait to get started, but first,”—she points at the mess they made, from torn clothes to tousled black hair to her leaking cunt—"clean up, take a rest. Both of you are dismissed.”

Hux fastens his breeches and straightens his tunic within mere seconds, as per his military training. He gently picks her up into his arms like carrying precious goods. He doesn’t bother with her clothes; he’s too focused on getting to and through that door, to escape before the Empress changes her mind.

_“Hux.”_

He stops in his tracks. Rose feels the tension in his lean muscles that tighten around her small frame.

“Rose wants to feel beautiful, she wants children, a family. She chose _you._ Make sure she gets what she wants.”

He swallows hard. She watches the bob of his throat beneath the stiff collar. But his eyes glint with suspicious clarity, as if the storm on Arkanis had passed.

“Not to worry, Empress,” he reassures with utmost confidence. “I will grant Rose everything that she _truly_ desires.”

  


  


  


  



End file.
